Vibes

Everyone has a story. It may not be structured, laid out, or even brought to the consciousness of anyone else, but it essentially existent within the mind that possesses it. The houses lining the bottom of the street beneath my apartment window all have their own story; separate from my own and ones I’ll never know. I’m free to guess based on the actors that submerge from the house, but the chances of accuracy are doubtful. I make inferences and judgments on people based on the vibes that they give me. “Vibes” is the word I use for that unexplainable flood of emotions that seems to present us with the aura of a person. I’m sure it can be reasoned in more scientific terms but the spiritual idea seems so much more exciting. I could say that unconsciously by picking up on the body language of others emotions are created based on what we perceive them to be, such as distaste towards someone you think is being deceitful. It makes more sense explained that way but the idea of vibes makes it seem as if we can accurately read people based on feelings, almost a gift from an unknown essence.

The Chances?

The owner didn’t even live in the country. The club was his investment or some bullshit. I’ve only ever seen him once and I didn’t know I was talking to him until after.

It was a dare. We were racing the golf carts through the course. We had a set rout down hole five, four, we cut back through hole 8 and across what we called the suicide plank. We did this race weekly. The entire rout is the roughest terrain to stretch over that land. We came close so many times of flipping and hitting each other. It could have been so bad. The best part was that it was all down hill from where we started so the golf carts go five times faster than normal and the bridge at the bottom was only wide enough for one cart. On one race it was so close against Colby and I. He managed to win every time and it was my chance. I was getting that paralyzing feeling you get when you are on a roller coaster. The bumps were making me nearly bounce out of my seat and I was terrified that if I let go I’d slide sideways and start flipping. I could have died for sure. We were so close I knew that he would shove me for the opening in-between the railings so I panicked and turned away from the bridge. I had no idea what I was doing. It was straight communication between adrenaline and my body.

I drove straight into the pond and sunk the cart beyond sight, or so I thought. The wind had made the water murky that day.

Some golfers were cruising towards us so I jumped on Zach’s cart to flee the scene but before we could make it anywhere one of them waved us down. My heart was pounding with fear that he witnessed what had happened. When we made it to him he just small talked a bunch of useless words. I could barely follow anything he was saying and before any of us had a chance to speak he would cut us off. I got so frustrated I just went and sat in the passenger seat of Zach’s cart while they continued talking for a bit.

When Zach hopped back in the cart he asked me, “Do you know who that was?”

“Nope.”

“That’s the owner of this golf course.”

A Trip Through Memory Lane

This here is a continuation of my last two posts. The antagonist of the plot has drifted into past memories that he attempts to share with the reader.

I guess kid is what I should say. I have a son named Sullivan and he is the only blood in my family to remain. I love his so much but because of his mother I never get to see him. It took three years and childbirth for her to decide that she didn’t want to be with me anymore. But she did think she deserved a fair share of the money I was making. She took me to court trying to take me for everything but she didn’t get anything. Well except what mattered to me the most – Sullivan.

I worried so much about keeping all my money that I let the most important argument go unrehearsed or un-thought out. When I realized what I was losing everything seemed to be sinking around me. My heart was heavy with sorrow and when I had to tell him I was leaving the look on his face made me burst out in tears. He asked, “Why daddy? Why do you have to go? I promise I’ll be better. I won’t do anything bad ever again. I promise. Please daddy?”

All I could do was reply, “I’m sorry son. It’s not your fault. It’s because your mother and I are not happy together. Don’t ever think that this is because of you.” I reassured him of that and made sure that he knew it. “We will still see each other on weekends,” I promised, “We will still get to see each other. I just won’t be living here with Mommy anymore.”

“Promise?” he asked, tears drowning his vision.

I replied, “I promise,” and as I started walking away I could feel a cold stare from the open window where she watched me lose everything.

It’s hard to believe the situations we find ourselves in. And it’s all because of chance. Those insignificant little glimpses of a moment shifting the pathways we are forced to take for the rest of our lives. It’s weird to imagine how life could have been so different if I would have not left home in search of my utopia.

It was a scary experience to leave for the first time. I don’t remember why but I really loved the idea of California. I hated the whole Hollywood gimmick and big city lifestyle, but I did like the ocean. I made a decision based entirely on google searches of cool places. I wasn’t able to sufficiently decide where I wanted to go before I left but I had my parents convinced otherwise. They were overwhelmed with my decision. I told them I wanted to live in another country one time during supper when I decided to try and explain what I had planned for when school was finished. Of course I didn’t think about the issue of money. I hated where I lived. The things I loved the most were done in the hot weather. I always loved summer the most, especially the hot streaks, which in truth were too easily bearable. I look forward to the heat and every year I wait for it, but I never feel like it has truly arrived. California was hot, at least compared to my standards and that’s what I wanted. I didn’t care what I was going to do once I got there but things came up that prevented my mission from happening. I worked as a plumber for eight months of my life. The first month was spent being sent to jobs as a slave for the journeyman plumber. Some of them were chill but there were some real pricks in the industry. After about a month my boss found me someone to work with full time. His name was Eric. He was one of those jacked up roid junkie type characters. The boss loved him because he seemed invincible. He could pick up triple the weight of construction supplies than any other plumber and he tried as often as he could to show off his strength. His veins looked as if they were going to pop and compared to me, he was a giant.

He loved to start fights and lipped off anyone who came onto our job site. I looked away ashamed that he had to be my partner. We, the plumbers were always the most hated people on the job. People got pissed off and gossiped garbage about us to one-another but he could never make them want to physically fight. He was a complete lunatic which scared me at first but I was never once touched, threatened, disrespected, talked down to, or anything like that from him, ever. He usually caused the shit that caused people to lash back at us, but if someone even looked at me the wrong way he would threaten their lives. I was just over five feet, one hundred thirty pounds of solid nothing at twenty years old. Being compared to Eric I looked like a young child. He had to have been at least six or seven feet. He hovered over me with enormous mass and according to what he commonly told me, he weighed close to three hundred fifty pounds. I worked with him for seven months of rough labor getting paid maybe a third of what he was and trying to save as much of it as I could. After I paid my bills I was always set back close to where I started. It was an endless cycle working for what I felt was nothing. I hated my life, my job, where I was going, the lack of opportunities, so I quit.

Why do we chase it? - Continued...

I'm not sure why I went back to this piece but I feel it may be good grounds for my next piece of work. I've added a bit, not much, but check it out if you feel inclined to do so.

(Part 2 - Why do we chase it?)

That’s because I don’t care to flaunt it. I am happy knowing that I can live secure, comfortable, leisurely, and pursue any hobby I decide despite any costs. But I don’t really. I spend most of my time trying to entertain myself but refusing to act upper class. I prefer the company of the middle class so that is what I fit in with. No one needs to know that I have almost one hundred million dollars stashed away in bank databases, hidden cash supplies in multiple places, and so much financial freedom I don’t even know how to handle it. The supply continues to grow although my work has been done years ago. It’s been ten years since I’ve worked in a job setting or even thought about money or how difficult it is for some people to obtain it. It’s been about eight years since I let go of the constant obsession over costs. When I grocery shop I get what looks amazing. I don’t look at the price tag because I often forget things aren’t free. With a quick swipe of a card it’s all mine, whatever I want. I couldn’t spend more than I made even if I tried and there’s almost nothing that I couldn’t buy. Poor fools saving every penny just for that once in a lifetime indulgence like a motorbike or expensive car. So much effort, budgeting, determination for that one object and I’m sure they love it dearly. But I can't love objects. They are just meaningless things. I do what is practical, healthy, and builds healthy relationships. I don’t want to stick out and have someone attracted to me for the wrong reasons. I like what I like whether it's cheap, expensive, free, done by peasants, it doesn't matter. I have money to spend and out of everything I could waste it on I chose to travel, attend university classes, volunteer, and spoil my parents with a massive piece of property fully furnished with it's own private lakefront beach. It's just a bunch of material objects that will one day be waste, but it makes me happy to know I've provided them with their dream life. Seeing others happy is what causes me pleasure. If I could just witness my wealth being used in a meaningful way for others and know it would continue to do so, I’d die happy.

Of course I’d set up my future generation since I do have the means to do so, but they don’t need all of it, at least not at once. They would turn out being useless stuck up spoiled snobs if I handed them all of my cash. They’d never need to work again and they’d have no appreciation for the struggles an average person goes through. I went through the struggle and I know, but those poor kids would never know what hit them.

Why do we chase it?

this is a short fictional rant about the division of wealth.


I found that the majority of people dislike what they do. The question I think to all of them is, ‘why?’ I mean why go on wasting your life doing something that you hate doing? I’ll tell you why. It’s because everyone is chasing an ideological meaningless symbol that represents wealth. If you think about it money is nothing. Constant exchange of a number that only exists through the records created on a computer screen. We can spend it through our plastic cards, exchange it for pieces of paper and exchange the paper for other things. It’s a complicated system that’s been developed. The idea that keeps everyone working and attending obligatory misery is an exchangeable medium. What I don’t get is how the idea was put into place and made to work. I imagine ancient animal humans running around through the woods and gathering what they decided was now there’s. When the population started to mature and resources remained scarce there had be some keen folks trying to find a way to unevenly claim a majority of the world’s pleasures without violence or effort. Somehow they would have had to push the idea on everyone they could sucker into it. How would he have decided what should be exchangeable as wealth? There would have to be lots of it, enough to go around, but it also must be something that can’t be easily obtainable or forged. It would have had to be something legit.

Somehow some recent scheme has evolved into the world that we now know. We are in a world where everyone is fighting for a place on the division of worth. I don’t believe that human being can be judged based on the amount of material possessions that they’ve managed to accumulate. If the goal is to needlessly chase more money than you are hardly a person at all. You are a programmed organism of societies development. Because it’s that goal that keeps us doing things we don’t enjoy.

That was my life through college. I barely made it, I had debt but I didn’t want it, it was like a monster chasing me for what I’ve taken. There were the rich kids cruising in their brand new sporty cars all dressed up in the most expensive brands. I didn’t get why labels meant so much to them. Even if they did have money, why waste it on overpriced garbage? It seems like they are trying extremely hard to be rich. Maybe they aren’t even wealthy at all but have a lifetime of debt they will never pay off. I have seen families that struggle to keep up with their perceived status. No one wants to show off failure but in the game of exchange it’s inevitable sometimes. I tried to stay as ahead as I could with tight budgeting and a lifestyle that I’m surprised I lived through. I avoided buying as much as I could. My clothes were torn until they were nothing except scraps of rags. I don’t think I’d ever be able to let myself wear an overpriced label. I hate labels. I’ve lived poor and I know what it’s like but now I’m rich and no one would ever know the difference.

Will Cell Phones Cause Cancer or Evolution?

It’s been announced that cell phones can play in part in the formation of certain cancers including brain tumors. I have always kind of had a feeling that cell phone radiation from incoming calls and signals passing through my body could eventually create some complications and now after finding out this news I’m pretty sure cancer from my cell phone is how I’m going to die.

I have my cell phone on me almost every second of everyday upon waking and most of the time it sits in my front left pocket. Each vibrating text forces an image of a growing tumor in my leg but it is probably just paranoia. I mean honestly how many things around us are emitting carcinogenic waves? Microwaves, cells phones, radio waves, probably wi-fi or wireless Internet for all we know. It’s still a new thing that hasn’t been that greatly explored I’m sure.

As we all use our cell phones to text, go on the internet, speak to one-another, or whatever else a cell phone can be used for, we are feeding the tumors inside of our head. Maybe it will grow and pass on with generations and eventually our tumors will evolve into a telepathic communications with transmitted waves between the enlarged tumors that will eventually find a place on everyone’s head.

An Update + A Rad Video

Since starting full time work I’ve been extremely lazy and unproductive with much fictional writing. I’ve been playing allot of music, most of which doesn’t get recorded so I cannot share it. My novel, A Step Over the Edge is slowly getting edited and put together in a chapter layout but the process is moving slowly. I still hope to complete the official rough draft by September so that I can start looking for a publishing rout.

My plans for this summer include lots of windsurfing, which I still haven’t had an opportunity to do this season, work, camping, and finding somewhere neat to go on a road trip. As the summer progresses and things start to get more exciting I will keep you updated with photos, stories, and media of whatever sorts get produced. I’ve been failing to keep my blog updated but my goal is to change that so don’t fear.

But besides that you should check out this rad video I found on youtube. It is a war scene done with young kids and toy weapons but the daring nature and visual effects give it a controversial darkness that seems to depict true horrors of the world. I enjoyed it so maybe you will too.